"Each event is preceded by Prophecy.

But without the hero,

there is no Event."

-Zurin Arctus, the Underking


In the waning years of the Third Era of Tamriel, a prisoner born on a certain day to uncertain parents was sent under guard, without explanation, to Morrowind, ignorant of the role he was to play in that nation's history…


CHAPTER ONE

Another End, Another Beginning

There was unspeakable beauty behind the veil of red, behind the many characters inscribed on it, runes and symbols that she could not recognize, though they rolled and flowed in orderly columns and rows in front of her eyes. Some cliffs loomed in the distance beyond with an air of ancient guardians, however unclear and distorted their forms might have appeared to her. All cried at her to come, all wished her to be there, and she herself wanted to see, to end the torment of not knowing things.

The vision was teasing her. It only allowed the eye to see enough for the heart to crave, for a long-lost memory to be touched and shift; then, before recognition could occur, before a connection could be made, the eye was denied more detail and the memory was sent back to its distant corner. It hurt to feel this helpless, so enraptured and willing to do as the tempter bid, to venture closer and discover, only to be sent back by the same thing that beckoned so strongly.

The odd part of it all was she could still think, but no fiber of her responded to her commands. She had been reduced to an admirer and a philosopher... a spectator who could issue judgments which, though valuable, were otherwise unable to produce change. She was a disembodied entity trying to reach for its material plane, where it could recover its physical form, yet entrance to the material could only be granted if you already had a body. She was... stuck in a paradox.

The veil between her and that beautiful world was, in itself, sinister. Its color, blood-red, had the silken transparence of the thinnest exotic cloth... that was why her mind had named it a veil in the first place. It was meant to draw a border... and the shifting runes inscribed upon its surface looked like the warning that bid any outsider to stay away. And she was an outsider. And still, the calm and tranquility beyond... if only she would be allowed to commune with it for a second and know what it was.

When the voice made itself heard in the surreal space isolating her from the rest, she found that she had almost been expecting it. An expressionless generalization of all beings, was speaking and it erased the borders and differences between things so thoroughly that it could be coming from nearly anyone and anything. All differences but one. There was one label, of all, that she could apply to it: 'female'. Like her, she reasoned, though that mattered not.

"They have taken you from the Imperial City's prison," it said with the majesty of something beyond divine, beyond what she had ever pictured the Gods themselves would sound. A different kind of majesty than the holy. "First by carriage and now by boat. To the East, to Morrowind," it finished evenly.

Tell me something I don't know, her own thoughts echoed hollowly through the equally distorted mind, and somehow she knew that the lips of a far-away body, her own abandoned sanctuary, were smirking. But the veil was there, though the images were now changing and showing her more of what she could not reach, could not have. Life... a flying form, but one who flew at its own will, not blocked by a barrier like the one in front of her. It all was there to remind her teasingly: voiceless spirits are not heard, my dear.

"Fear not, for I am watchful," the imposing entity of everywhere continued to speak with the communal voice of all things. And indeed, she felt watched and powerless, unable to return the look. "You have been chosen," it announced briefly. The runes quickened their pace and the rows soon came to an end; as they drifted away, the very last became regular words: "Many fall, but one remains." She saw them clearly and they loomed in front of her purposefully, before a flash of lightning tore through the red veil and released her spirit.

Everything went blue and watery, as the prison, instead of opening, sank below into the waves, while rain impacted the surface and caused innumerable ripples. More lightning danced above, revealing islands in a distance no less unreachable than that of the cliffs, and no less attractive and beckoning either.

But unlike the runes had failed to do for the veil, the ripples breached the water's integrity slowly, forming a small round crack in the center, as she could hear another voice, this one human and male, emotion-filled and insecure, albeit distant. "Wake up, we are here," he said distressfully.

A dream it had been then. Her own dream and she could not control it; she had let it control her instead. Yet, she could not deny how authentically wet, cold and empty she felt, despite it being just the dream. Bitterly, she dove for the widening crack, her own effort speeding the process with which the rupture grew. "Why are you shaking?" the man continued to voice his concern. "Are you okay? Wake up!"

The water ceded and she tore through it, plunging headfirst back into her body... and into reality. Avidly, she breathed the stale air in the ship's hold, while the tall Dunmer she had heard the soldiers call Jiub helped her up. "Stand up, there you go," he said, still a bit unnerved, despite how comforting he tried to sound. "You were dreaming."

She looked to him and nodded, both to show she had acknowledged his words and to confirm the fact that she could now stand on her own feet. He let go of her cautiously, ready to return, should she falter; she did not, and so he stayed away. "What's your name?" he asked, hesitantly.

She raised an eyebrow his way, wondering if she had been the only one paying attention to what the guards said. Finally, when she realized the guards hadn't said her name, after all, not once during the entire journey, she replied. "I am Artania..." Normally, she would have added her last name to that, but given certain circumstances from her past, she stopped there before she had to bother explaining how two families both claimed to be her parents and how the last name was actually uncertain in her case. "Well, Artania," she ended unceremoniously.

Jiub looked quite intrigued, but he didn't seem the type to pry into things, and so Artania relaxed. "Well," the Dunmer changed the subject casually. "Not even last night's storm could wake you. I heard them say we've reached Morrowind. I'm sure they'll let us go."

Morrowind. The woman frowned slightly as she remembered what the dream had been all about: their trip was coming to an end, as they had been announced the other day. Apparently, they were there now. She would soon find herself on foreign ground, for a purpose she could not begin to fathom, though apparently the Emperor himself had ordered that she should be deported there. Better than prison, I guess, she reasoned, but the thought didn't sound confident in her mind.

Just as she wanted to speak again and ask Jiub something, the Dunmer raised his hand to quickly press a warning finger to his lips. "Quiet," he whispered, falling into a casual stance again. "Here comes the guard."

Indeed, Artania could look to her right, now conscious of the resounding footsteps she had previously been oblivious to, and she was able to see the approaching form of an armored Imperial man. His stride was formal and his attitude toward the two distant; he eyed Jiub for a second, then discarded him immediately and stopped before the woman. "This is where you get off," he announced indifferently. "Come with me."

Without providing any more information, the guard turned away in the calm fashion they were all trained to do so, and he began to make for the opposite end of the ship's lowest level, where a wooden board served for a stairway leading above. Artania looked a bit distressed by the rush and cast a glance to Jiub, seeking her support with the Dunmer. "You better do what they say," he advised quietly. That and a nod was all their goodbye.

Artania hurried to snatch her worn leather backpack from a corner of the hold. It didn't contain much, having in mind prisoners had little possessions, but the few things that were in it had sentimental value for the woman. The first was her journal, accompanied by the appropriate writing tools; she had never been weak-minded, but solitude could cause even the brave to resort to such a confident. The only other object was a small silver brooch, given to her by someone dear; once upon a time, it had been adorned with a diamond, but such things did not last long in prison. Someone stronger had taken the small gem and Artania was lucky to have been left with as much as the jewel itself. Sighing away the pain of such memories, she clutched the bag to her chest and then began to follow the guard, who had stopped a few feet away to wait for her and was growing impatient already.

The Imperial led the woman to the ship's upper room and pointed her to a hatch above her head; this time, there was a proper ladder, unlike the slippery platform she'd almost lost her balance upon earlier. Artania took a brief note of the Nord woman, one of the crew, having lunch in a recluse corner. "Get yourself up on deck," the guard's tone grew almost hostile when he saw her staring at the food longingly, even if he still tried to keep it formal. "And let's keep this as civil as possible."

I love you too, Artania thought with a small eyeroll as she climbed the stairs and pushed the hatch open, emerging into full sunlight for the first time in ages. She had been in prison for a while, with only a patch of sky to admire through a tiny barred gap in the wall; then, they had come for her at night and, by one of those enclosed prison carriages, they had escorted her to the ship, where she had been forced to spend all her time down in the hold with Jiub. She stretched most relievedly as the hatch slammed shut behind her, reveling in the warm feel of the sun as it caressed her extremely pale skin. This didn't look bad at all.

"Good morning," came a familiar voice from her right, teasing in a friendly manner. It was a middle-aged Redguard, another of the soldiers deployed as escort, but one who had found a bit of sympathy for her and had been bringing her bits of food every now and then, that were better than just bread. On a couple of occasions, they had even talked and he had told her about Morrowind, as little as he knew. In turn, she had recounted a few tales of what she had done here and there, entertaining the man. Friendly affection had formed most naturally.

Artania turned to look at the brown-skinned man with a ruefully weak grin on her face, noticing that the rest of the crew had already gone away and the deck was empty, save for the two of them. Then, she skipped over to him for a hug. He was fully armored and a lot taller than her, so it all came out as pretty awkward, but he indulged and lifted her from the ground, spinning her round for a short moment. Once he had placed her back down, she pulled away and reluctantly looked over to the small village she could see on shore, unfolding before her eyes. It had a few stone buildings, the most imposing of which were right there, at the docks, and a score of wooden shacks in a deplorable state of disrepair.

"Good to finally see you out, kid," the Redguard tapped her shoulder gently, interrupting her study of the settlement.

Artania gritted her teeth at the appellative and cast a dark glare to the man, which only caused him to smile; that was enough to melt any intention of looking upset she might have had. "Thanks," she replied sincerely, though her insecurity as to what to do next leaked through.

"This is where they want you," the Redguard carefully pointed her to one of the stone buildings, the only one accessible from the docks, due to tall wooden fences that had been built to bar the other two ways. "Head down to the dock and he'll show you to the Census Office."

Only then did Artania notice the other soldier, an Imperial, complete with uniform and accordingly marked plate armor. The man stood at their end of the long wooden dock, patiently waiting, probably for her to come down. "I'll miss you," she said regretfully, then turned away quickly before she got too mushy and marched down the boarding platform.

The 'welcome committee' greeted her with a formal nod. "You finally arrived," he said. "But our records don't show from where."

Artania raised a brow, in that specific roguish fashion of hers, wondering whether the man had hit his head or something, then cleared her throat. "Aside from 'prison'?" she asked. "Well, let me see. Where did YOU come from, eventually?" Really; where ELSE could an Imperial come from, if not Cyrodiil? Then again, soldiers were supposed to be as brainless as cattle in the first place, all except the superiors.

"I'm sure you'll fit right in," the man replied gruffly, trying his best to keep formal while on duty. He still muttered something that vaguely resembled a 'not all Imperials actually live in Cyrodiil', then his voice rose again. "Follow me up to the office and they'll finish your release."

My release into another prison, only larger, Artania noted for herself. After all, the province of Morrowind had a continental side as well, but they had chosen to drop her off on the island and she was surely going to be stuck there for a good long while. All departing ships were under strict control of the Imperials and they weren't likely to allow her to leave just yet, after going through so much effort to bring her.

She followed the guard as the man led her up to the building's only apparent door, at least on that side, and he instructed her to go in, which she did promptly. She found herself in a warm candlelit room with two other people. One of them, an aged and rapidly balding white-haired man in a plain brown robe, also an Imperial, just like the guard standing by the room's other door, gestured for Artania to come closer as soon as she entered. The woman obeyed, though not the mechanical way soldiers were trained to do; she did as she was told because there was no other way.

"We've been expecting you," said the man in a manner so friendly that its falseness clawed at the woman, making her irascible. "My name is Socucius Ergalla and I'll make sure you're recorded before you're officially released."

Having been in prison more than on just this single occasion, Artania was familiar with the process; she nodded unblinkingly for him to proceed.

"I will need to know a few things about you. Your profession, first?" Socucius continued.

"Not much of a profession, really," Artania replied hesitantly. "I am a rogue."

The man wiggled his nose in contempt, but nevertheless bent over his desk and inscribed something on a piece of paper, using a quill he had been holding all the time. "Not respectable," he ranted. "But it is on my list nonetheless. A moment while I check it in... here, that does it." He turned back to her, only partly. "The letter that preceded you mentioned you were born under a certain sign. And what would that be?"

"22nd of Frost Fall. The Tower," said Artania with a small smile. The respective sign was one of The Thief's charges and, coming right after the news of her profession, it made for quite a blow to the man. Surely he could not defy the orders of his superiors, but she knew for a fact that he was at least questioning their sanity.

"Interesting," Socucius mumbled as he inscribed; alas, he was too versed in his job to show as much distress as the young rogue had hoped to see. "Now," he continued, stepping aside from his table and gesturing for her to close in. "Before I stamp these papers, make sure this information is correct."

Artania approached rather timidly and cast a small look at the paper in question; there, she saw her name written clearly and in detail, both last names included, followed by a whole lot of other details about her. The words above that, though, were the ones that caught her attention most, especially "by Emperor Uriel Septim VII's decree"; they did nothing else but demonstrate how much interest the Emperor himself was taking in her and she couldn't help but wonder why. Nodding her approval to Socucius Ergalla, she drew away once more, waiting for the man to sign with all of his pompous titles and press down a patch of wax with some marking or another. Once that was done, he handed her the parchment, rolled up nicely into a tubular shape.

"Show your papers to the Captain when you exit to get your release fee," the man advised gravely.

"I will," Artania nodded respectfully. "Thank you." She slipped away quickly, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the quantity of events piling up on top of her. Release fee? She couldn't remember being paid anything when she had been let out of prison the other times before this one. She heard the guard at the door address her, but didn't make out the words, too preoccupied with her sudden drive to just get out of their sight and take a moment to recompose herself. Closing the door behind her hastily, she was relieved to find that the short corridor beyond was empty.

She closed her eyes and stood there, using the wall for support, to catch her breath, which the sudden burst of emotion had caused to accelerate. She could feel her heart pounding rapidly in her chest, with... was it fear of the unknown? Mechanically, she pulled herself away and with her she dragged the bag, which she had not strapped to her shoulders yet and wasn't going to, with how weak and hollow she felt at the moment.

The young rogue went past a doorless entrance and didn't grant too much attention to the room it opened into. She considered the exit should be at the end of the corridor, and so she opened the door there, only to find herself standing at the border of what looked like a cellar illuminated by two torches, except it wasn't below the ground. A couple of wine barrels were stacked by the wall, with buckets at the ready, while the other side of the small room hosted a bedroll surrounded by wicker bins and a bunch of sacks.

For a few moments, Artania considered getting drunk out of her mind until she could collapse senseless into the bedroll and sleep herself straight into death. Wouldn't that be an easier path? She thought bitterly. But nooo, I have to go out there and be the Emperor's little pawn in... whatever small scheme he has in mind. She kept from spitting her disgust out at the floor and shuffled away from the room, back to the other one, that she had discarded earlier.

There was, indeed, another door there, which she assumed to be leading outside. However, her interest was rapidly piqued by other things, such as, per example, the shiny silverware on the rafters to the left and on the table, and the recently cooked crab meat enthroned on one of the plates. It's your fault I'm so hungry, after all, she thought to a bunch of invisible Imperial guards as she seated herself in front of the respective plate and picked up the fork and knife.

She ate quickly, a feat made even easier by the unnerving combination of hunger and fear she would get caught, then stood back up. During her meal, she had examined the other objects on the table, and she didn't feel too guilty when she opened her bag and ushered a rusty old dagger, a lockpick and the bottle of flin she had noticed, as well as a few chunks of bread, inside; then, after a bit of consideration, she gave the same path to the silverware itself. Just as she thought her work was done, she discovered the small chest on one of the shelves and found it all too tempting.

The object was negligently armed with a simple lock and one equally simple maneuver with the pick broke it open in no time. Artania didn't fail to congratulate her instinct when her eyes fell on the gold pieces inside. She snatched them quickly and shoved them in the bag with the rest of things, keeping only her papers out, then closed the leather cover over it all and hurried out of the room with the most casual of innocent looks. She couldn't deny, as she was dragging her slightly heavier bag, that these new events had done something to alleviate her sorrow. Stealing was simply so much sweeter when the objects belonged to the officials; in fact, the only better targets were rich nobles.

She didn't know exactly what she had been expecting, but the small interior courtyard she now found herself in, with its tall stone wall and pretense of grass patches, was demoralizing. Sighing heavily, the rogue made her way across, to the other, smaller building on the opposite side. She could have jumped the wall, but she wasn't sure there weren't any guards on the other side, and on top of that, she wasn't officially free yet and she didn't want to be on the run.

Caught up in her thoughts as she was, she strayed from her direction a little and failed to notice it, returning to reality only when she stumbled upon a wooden barrel and crashed to the ground right along with the object. Cursing, she massaged her bruised knee, noticing for the first time how deterred and filthy her clothes were, torn and clumsily patched in a hundred places as they appeared; she was going to need a new set, and real soon – how would she ever walk the streets like that until she got to buy some, anyway?

Just when the foul mood was returning in full and she began to stand up, she saw the shiny little object in the grass. It was the known faint glow of enchantment, coming from a ring; the jewel had been inside the barrel, having rolled out when the container had crashed and its lid had come away. Smirking, the rogue picked it up and dropped it in a worn side-pocket of her flimsy bag.

Standing up, she dusted herself, though it didn't really matter, with all the old stains on her clothes, and then entered the building. The room beyond the door was small and dimly lit, containing a few stacks of shelves and a table, all crowded with paperwork and quills. An Imperial guard, obviously higher in rank, by his uniform armor suit, than the others she had seen, stood resolutely to her left and was watching her intently. The man eyed the bag she was holding curiously, but said nothing; if he suspected what she had done, he was choosing to overlook it, and Artania couldn't help but wonder how much that had to do with her importance to the Emperor.

"Good day to you, Captain," she said with a charming little smile, trying her best to look timid and polite. She had guessed correctly, for the man was indeed Sellus Gravius – now, where in hell did she know the name from? Ah, Socucius' guard had told her, she recalled in a blur, and her mind had reflexively recorded it, though she wasn't consciously paying attention at the moment.

"Here, let me take your papers," the man held out a hand demandingly.

"Sure," she shrugged, carelessly dropping the rolled parchment in place.

The soldier unrolled the scroll and studied it for a moment with an attentive eye. "Thank you," he said finally, placing the parchment aside on the table, with a bunch of others like it. "Word of your arrival only reached me yesterday. I am Sellus Gravius." (Artania sighed sympathetically there, thinking it prudent not to show she knew – it didn't matter how little a detail it was you knew, it was always good to appear as uninformed as possible.) "But," the man continued, seeing that she remained silent. "My background is not important. I am here to welcome you to Morrowind."

At that point, the rogue deemed it wise to attempt and pry out a bit of information from the man, but all he wished to share were facts she was already aware of. How she had been released at the Emperor's direct order and shipped to Morrowind, all for reasons he didn't know and did not want to know. However, he did mention that she wasn't free to go yet, not until she had been told what her duties were.

"I have duties?" she asked, unable to contain her surprise and sudden burst of curiosity; that caused the captain to almost smile amusedly, an act from which only his discipline and requirement to be serious stopped him.

"Yes, you do," the man replied, pointing her to a bundle of more papers. "This package came with the news of your arrival." He picked it up easily and shoved it into her arms, which received it quite confusedly, out of sheer reflex. You are to take it to Caius Cosades, in the town of Balmora."

Artania looked pathetically outraged by it all. "And how am I supposed to do that?" she asked moodily. "I am a complete stranger to this place, ignorant to whatever I may find... out there!" She pointed to the door, fervently.

The captain shrugged. "Here, you are in a small port and fishing village called Seyda Neen. Balmora is located some distance to the North. Elone, the Scout at Arrille's Tradehouse here in Seyda Neen, could give you more detailed directions on how to reach it. However, I would suggest that you take the silt strider to Balmora. Fast, cheap, safe. Cross the bridge and head east. Can't miss it."

"Silt strider?" Artania looked more than simply confused as she carefully repeated the words, uncertain if she had even understood them correctly.

"Silt striders are giant insects," the captain explained amiably. "The driver directs the beast by manipulating exposed organs and tissues. A compartment of passengers and cargo is hollowed from the creature's shell."

By that time, the look on Artania's face had switched to sheer terror at the thought, her mouth agape and eyes wide. She recomposed herself as best she could, though her next blink came about forcibly. "Assuming..." she gasped, then regained her voice when the man cast her a worried glance. "Assuming I make it to Balmora... alive... Where do I find this ... man?"

"Caius Cosades," the soldier reminded her in a dutiful fashion. "I can't tell you where to find him, but once you're in Balmora, go to the South Wall Cornerclub and ask for him. It's in the southeast section of town, on the east side of the Odai River. They'll know where to find Caius."

"I... I see," nodded Artania, though reluctant to go just yet.

"Ah," the Captain seemed to remember something. "I also have a letter for you, and a disbursal to your name." He reached for another small bundle and placed it on top of the former larger one that she was still holding obliviously. This one had the weight of gold about it. "Serve Caius Cosades as you would serve the Emperor himself," the man instructed further." Then, seeing that she wasn't going to move any time soon, he added "You're free to go."

Done on a rather cool, commanding tone, that last act brought Artania back to the real world. She nodded and mumbled some words of thanks, while drifting away from the captain to stuff the newly gained possessions in the bag, atop all that was already in there. That quite filled the old container more than it required, but at least she managed to close it once again. With a sigh heavier than any she had ever let out, the rogue pushed the knob of the only remaining door, and came out into the rather active village day.

She was free again, for whatever that was worth, but that brought her no comfort, no satisfaction; the woman almost wished she could just crawl back into her familiar corner of the prison in Cyrodiil. But this was Morrowind, a land where she knew nothing and no one; so the cold breeze coming from the nearby sea was quick to remind her. There she stood, more than simply lost – afraid. The end of her captivity had come with a new beginning, one which she wouldn't have seen coming, nor would have wanted to take place.